


Schadenfreude

by Humanity_Sucks2002



Category: The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Angst and Comfort, F/M, Frenemies, Friends With Benefits, Mockingjay Movie Universe, it is haymitch afterall, sort off, they have a complicated relationship i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:22:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26270338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Humanity_Sucks2002/pseuds/Humanity_Sucks2002
Summary: Effie Trinket did not like District Thirteen but at least Haymitch was suffering too.
Relationships: Haymitch Abernathy/Effie Trinket
Comments: 2
Kudos: 28





	Schadenfreude

Effie Trinket did not like District Thirteen. It was either roasting hot or freezing cold in the underground complex with nothing in between. It played havoc on her skin and hair. Had she not been able to scrounge the fabric she needed for her headscarf; Effie was sure she would have completely lost her mind. Everybody hated her, something which Effie was not used to and did not particularly enjoy. Had Katniss and Primrose not sat with her during meals, she would have been completely alone. The only other people who vaguely tolerated her were the Victors and Plutarch; all of whom seemed to be on different timetables from her. It was like a nightmarish school situation, and Effie did not approve.

There were only three things than made the experience better. Firstly, she would have definitely been tortured into oblivion had she not been taken here (was this gratitude for being rescued or just her selfishness coming out again?). Either way, the ‘not actively being tortured’ part of the experience was positive. Secondly, her being here was helping Katniss. She may not really appreciate it, Effie was not oblivious to her being irritated by her, but Katniss needed the help. God knows, the cave people from thirteen had no idea how to create a heroic image. And, possibly most satisfyingly of all, Haymitch was also suffering. Coin, the raving bitch she was, had completely cut him off from any alcohol. She had even ordered that the rubbing alcohol be locked away. 

He was sat on his bunk, looking terribly haggard. He’d never been particularly well groomed, despite how hard Effie had tried to make him be so. He’d always had greasy hair, wasn’t always shaved and had just been overly dishevelled. Now he looked so much worse though. He had a patchy, greying beard, probably two weeks old, hair which hadn’t been washed in the same amount of time. His hands shook. Eyebags the size of small hovercrafts. The man looked like a dead tramp they’d pulled up off the outer streets of the Capitol. On one hand, Effie was a little exacerbated with him – keep yourself clean man! But, on the other, she knew that it was probably difficult for him to be sober for the first time in decades. That pity did not stop her getting a little satisfaction from that. She was not the only one struggling here.

“You look terrible, dear.” She said, sitting next to him. Effie still kept her perfect posture; they could take the rest of her dignity from her but never that. Slouching always conjured an image of her Grandmama, scowling down at her with her riding crop. It just was not an option. Her ‘sudden’ appearance made Haymitch jump then growl in annoyance.

“Seen yourself recently?” He snapped. 

“Unfortunately, yes. It’s quite disgusting.” She sighed, putting her hands to the headscarf self-consciously. 

“You’d be less disgusting if you took that bloody scarf off. You look like a fucking lunatic.” 

Effie decided to ignore the foul language at that point, although hearing it sent a wave of posh indignance though her. Effie knew how he felt, at least a little bit; she hadn’t had a cigarette since the last morning of the Quell. Obviously, she wasn’t as dependant on the nicotine as Haymitch was on the alcohol, but if her experience was anything to go on, he had a right to be miserable. 

“You’re really not having fun with sobriety, are you?” 

“Oh, how could you tell? Are you psychic? How else will you use those powers of deduction?” He mocked her accent in the last question. Then he sighed and pressed his head into his hands. Feeling sorry for him, Effie put her hand gently on his shoulder and rubbed gently with her thumb. She thought that he would shrug her off immediately, but he didn’t. Several seconds of silence passed while the two of them just sat there before he sat back up. “Sorry,” He mumbled, “I’ve not slept properly in weeks.”

“You’ve done really well with it so far,” Effie said kindly, putting her arm around his shoulders in an attempt to be comforting. “You know I would have gone crazy if I were in your shoes.”

“I think you can handle more than you think, sweetheart.” He said with more kindness than Effie had heard him speak before. Seeming to come to himself, and realised that he was being nice for once, Haymitch changed the subject. “Besides, I’m just glad to not be hallucinating anymore.” 

“Were they anything like the ones we had that year we did mushrooms after the games?” Effie asked with a grin. Haymitch turned and glared at her for a second before laughing heartily. That had been fun; a fantastic way to distract yourself from the fact the two children you have been looking after for the last two weeks are dead in a frozen wasteland, and nobody will remember them within a couple of days. Entertaining, completely false and distracting, it was something they’d really needed that year. 

“I wish. This wasn’t fun hallucinations, more just terrifying- oh shit I feel like I’m dying- hallucinations.” Effie was not sure how to respond to that, so just nodded. Haymitch shifted a little on the bed and pulled a tissue out of his jumpsuit, which he wiped his nose with. “I remember punching Coin after she told me I’d have no more liquor, but I can’t tell whether that was real or I made it up.”

“I’m going to say that was a hallucination; I think we would have all heard about it if you’d actually done that.” Grinning, Effie pictured what Coin’s pinched, sullen little face would look like if she’d been punched. How much she would give to see that. 

“Shame.” Haymitch sniffed and Effie agreed. Effie’s arm was still around his shoulders and, after a couple of seconds of peaceful silence, Haymitch put his arm around her waist and pulled her in a little closer. Laying her head gently on his shoulder, Effie smiled. 

It was not the first time they’d been like this. You can’t work together for as long as they had in their field of work (so to speak) without either intensely hating each other or having a deep respect for each other. Effie thought that they were probably somewhere in the middle of that. They’d bicker all the time, fight about stupid things, insult each other deep into the insecurities they knew the other had. But then, when everything came crashing down -and it always did- they’d end up like this. Usually with a drink or two, Haymitch and Effie would be sat in silence (sometimes holding each other, sometimes not) taking comfort in the fact the other was there. Exactly what happened would differ year on year. One year they would just sit there, not talking. Another year they’d drank themselves stupid. Yet another, they’d cried and screamed and Haymitch had destroyed the kitchenette before coming over to her and weeping into her dress. On many years they’d had sex; sometimes roughly and other times soft and sensual. Effie had always preferred these years, there was something less terrifying, less confronting about having sex as a distraction. She could push the faces of the dead children out of her mind, just pretend that nothing terribly wrong had happened. 

“Real question,” Haymitch broke the silence they’d been enjoying, “why are you wearing that stupid headscarf? People would probably notice you less if you just had your hair down like everyone else. And, besides your actual hair is much prettier than that.” There was something in his voice Effie hadn’t heard before and she couldn’t quite name it. He was warm and solid against her; despite the shakes the detox had given his hands. 

“Well, um, dignity.” Effie responded, trying to get her thoughts translated into words that made at least some sense. How comforting his body felt against her was not helping her think. “It’s how I want to look, all the make-up and wigs and all that; its like armour for me. Nothing can hurt me if I have my armour... But now I don’t have it and this is the best I can do. I’m out of my comfort zone and…and well it’s not good.” That was only the tip of the iceberg of it, but Effie didn’t want to spill her guts out in the open. Not right now anyway. 

“Fair enough, I suppose. Let’s just hope all this is worth it.” Haymitch had nodded along with her as she’d spoken. She hoped so; if she had suffered through District Thirteen for no reason then she would find whatever hole Plutarch had ended up in and beat the lights out of him. 

“Cheers to that.” Effie deadpanned. 

“If only.” Haymitch joked lightly and made Effie laugh too. Minutes passed; people passed by and ignored them, a beeping began somewhere and, somewhere far away, a boisterous laugh bounced off the walls. At least someone was happy. 

“Apart from drinking,” Effie said softly, “what do you want to do when we win?”

She’d never heard him talk about the future, ever. She supposed that there was no point before; nothing was going to change. He would drink, sleep, be a mess, sober up a little bit for the games then go back to normal and then die. But now there was something, a chance for things to change -whether for the better or not Effie wasn’t sure yet. 

“You sound quite confident there, princess, how do you know we will?” Was the snarky reply. She rolled her eyes, ridiculous man. 

“Optimism dear. I don’t want to put bad vibes out into the universe that might come back and ruin everything. Answer the question.” In her experience, if you say something bad will happen, it probably will. Maybe it was just a coincidence, or maybe everything that had happened under those circumstances were inevitable, but there was no way she was taking the chance. 

“I don’t think that’s how the universe works.”

“Answer the question Haymitch.” Effie growled. He grumbled and scratched the side of his nose.

“I have no plans. I’ve not thought about it. I don’t know how much my world will change; I’ll still be a drunk, I’ll still have the nightmares, District Twelve will still be gone. But I won’t have to take any more kids to their deaths, so that’s something.” He paused for a second then exclaimed, “Maybe I’ll get some geese!”

Effie couldn’t help but laugh. The image of him, in a drunken stupor, surrounded by feathery, honking demons was too much for her. It wasn’t even that funny but the tenseness of the situation made it hilarious. Her laughter made Haymitch laugh. They looked crazy, sitting there on a bunkbed, hysterically laughing (tears in their eyes) in the dark, freezing hole of District Thirteen’s bunker. Haymitch’s head was pressed into the top of her head while Effie’s was leant against his chest as they shook together in time.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this at the beginning of lock-down then forgot about it. Hope you enjoy :)


End file.
